


The Siren in Yon Garden

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Apparently "very Poledark" vibes but that can't stop me cause I can't read, English Lord and Irish housekeeper, F/M, Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), LARPing as humans, Male-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Regency Period, Regency Romance, also i have no clue what Poledark is but i hope it's good, and is fully for the drama, but also they just kinda like it, but heads up there, hiding from Heaven and Hell, is it a kink? possibly, it is not portrayed in a way that will be distressing, moron4moron, please know that they're truly in love and also truly dumb, rated E for Everyon- wait, the onion of dumb, there is a very dramatic staged (pretend!) suicide at the end, there's reasons of course, they're both idiots, very low key based off of High Kings' versions of Red is the Rose and Raglan Road, where you peel off a layer and the one below is even more stupid, will either of them admit it ever? probably not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26704816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: Aziraphale is an Angel and Crowley is a demon, and they can never be together.However, Absolom Fell and Aurnia Crowley have no such compunctions. Though he is an English lord and she keeps his estate in Ireland, they can cross these barriers which are not nearly so insurmountable and fall in love as they like.Aka the fic in which Aziraphale and Crowley roleplay as repressed Georgians as the lord of the manor attempting to woo his housekeeper.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 27





	1. A Siren in the Kitchen of the Manor Fell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheOldAquarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOldAquarian/gifts).



> This is not _technically_ a human AU, they are their same celestial selves all the way through, though are pretending to be human for the sake of their games. 
> 
> Aziraphale is going by the name Lord Absolom Z. Fell, of the London Fells and Crowley is going by Aurnia J Crowley, an Irishwoman (and also, at some points, as Anthony, Absolom's bosom buddy).
> 
> A gift for TheOldAquarian as part of a Book Club exchange!

Mr. Absolom Z. Fell was very much an English noble. Which caused all sorts of glares and wary looks when he had business in Ireland and traveled there for it. Normally, Absolom wouldn't bother with the trip himself and would instead send anyone else qualified to take care of the little things and only make his rounds perhaps once every other year to check in on his holdings and investments. However recently, he'd been quite a bit more personally concerned with his land in the country…

The morning was bright with a light layer of fog across the heath as Absolom's carriage rattled to a stop in front of the small, country manor out here on the coast. He dismounted from the steps and waved off the carriage driver from helping him unload his own baggage. It wasn't overmuch and he'd always been a bit stronger than most would assume from looking at him. And, in any case, the sooner the driver left the sooner he'd spread the news that Mr. Fell was here to all the tenants and those who worked for him nearby.

He entered the manor through the front and set his bags by the front door, tilting his head to the side to better hear the soft sound of song coming from a few rooms away. The kitchen, perhaps? On surprisingly silent feet, Absolom strode down the hall and towards the source of the voice. It was strong and wistful sounding, a love lament he'd noticed were popular here. In Scotland as well as far as he knew, and sounding rather similar in tune to another he'd heard before.

Upon entering the kitchen, Absolom froze and had to lean back against the frame of the doorway to keep himself upright. There was a siren in his kitchen, slowly and deliberately stepping across as she whipped butter in a bowl, as if she were dancing with an invisible partner. Her hair was as red as the sunrise, shot through with fetching copper, and skin as bright and clear as the morning dew, spotted with freckles that made Absolom swallow heavily to keep himself in check.

She turned and the smile on her face as she sang her song—which was surely nothing short of seeing the face of heaven—dropped suddenly upon seeing him. She gasped and nearly dropped the bowl in her arms and something ached in Absolom's chest at the worry on her face. Her eyes were obscured by dark glasses, small things for reading he'd have expected to see on a fellow teaching at Cambridge rather than all the way out here, if they'd been clear instead of blackened.

"Oh, Mr. Fell!" She gasped and Absolom had never been so enchanted by the soft lilt of an accent before in his life. "I am– I apologize, we thought you'd be here tomorrow!"

"Ah," Absolom hummed and nodded, straightening where he stood and clasped his hands behind his back before taking a step forward into the kitchen properly. "No need to apologize, my dear, my road here was quite a bit clearer than expected and the horses and ship made rather good time…"

She nodded and set the bowl down suddenly with a clack and dropped into a clumsy curtsey with a grimace, as if she'd only just realized she ought to. "I'll go prepare your rooms right away, Mr. Fell, and get started on dinner for you immediately. Please, if there's anything you need, let me know."

"Of course," Absolom replied, only just stopping himself from reaching out and letting his fingers catch on her hair as she hurried past him and out towards the rest of the manor. Presumably to freshen and air the rooms as would have been done early tomorrow if he'd been on schedule. How long he stood there he wasn't sure, but his thoughts slowly returned from their sudden, gravitational attraction to the siren in his kitchen, who sung of everything and nothing and love and grief in his home for him to find.

Absolom walked slowly back down the hall and noticed all the little ways it had been different from every other visit—when his housekeeper was an older lady who must have hired this woman on before leaving herself. All the little signs this fire-haired woman had touched the house and how vases were filled with heather plucked from the fields outside or had the odd wildflower filling them. There was more greenery decorating the interior and he had half a mind to check the exterior to wonder on the ivy. Had it always been so green and full and high up on the sides of the manor out front?

It would make sense, of course, if a siren on the cliffs by the coast of Ireland could sing the plants greener too, in order to match the vibrancy of the rest of her. Soon enough, he made it into the entrance room and gathered up his bags from by the door and escorted himself into the parlor, wondering if it would be too much of an imposition to have some tea made…

Nearly an hour later, and after Absolom had dug out from his bag of books something to read—he made a habit to travel with two bags and only two as much as he was able, one for clothing and necessities and another for books, which were simply necessities by another name—and settled into the armchair which had been angled towards the fireplace alongside another with a small table between of the perfect height and size to hold a book, a teapot and cup, and a small place of something to nibble on.

"Oh, Mr. Fell!" The siren's voice sounded somewhat breathless and when Absolom turned to look her cheeks were flushed and the vision of her was fetching enough to leave him speechless for a moment or two.

"Yes, Ms…" Right, he didn't actually know her name. He wondered if she had one to give him, from what he remembered the fey weren't meant to give out their names, but she had already known his. Which, perhaps, was why he was so caught in her spell.

"Crowley," She murmured demurely, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear and ducking her head. "Aurnia Crowley."

"A lovely name, miss." Absolom stood and tucked his finger into the book to keep his place. "Would it be a bother, my dear, to have tea and something to nibble on brought out?" He cast his gaze to the empty fireplace and decided against having one stoked. It was still plenty warm enough in his coat, even if it was suited for travel more than at-home wear.

"Yes, of course, sir." Crowley ducked her head again and Absolom watched as she turned on her heel and exited the room. He had her name, or whatever could be counted as it, for the time being, a book at hand, and tea on the way. Overall, it was a rather phenomenal start to the trip.

* * *

Absolom only stayed for the six days he had initially planned for, and in that time he'd watched and remained a silent observer to the daily going-about of Ms. Aurnia Crowley. A remarkably pretty Irish name for a remarkably pretty Irish woman. As much as Absolom's own… hmm tastes tended to run towards the masculine, every so often a particularly handsome woman might catch his eye.

She took on quite a few hats; Crowley prepared his meals and kept the place kept up and oversaw a handful of other women who came by once a month to clean the manor in full (as it was far too large for a single employee to keep to rights, especially this near to the sea), and even took on the majority of the gardening requirements of the manor. A few pointed questions as to the nature of her job around the manor and how she was managing (would she require anyone else hired on a regular basis?) revealed a lot about the woman.

Professionally, at least. Personally, Absolom's siren was unknown to him other than her penchant for singing when she thought she was alone and how utterly observant she was. He rarely wanted for anything when Crowley was near, and even more often she would arrive with a meal or a fresh pot of tea or even coming to stoke a nearby fire or remind him to take a break from his work as she bustled around before he could even think to ask for them. All in all, Absolom couldn't help but be utterly pleased with this siren in his employ.

And when the six days he had to stay at the country manor came to an end, he was oddly bereft, and the emotion hung heavy in his chest between his lungs. Just to the center of where his heart ought to be, he thought to himself as he watched the manor grow smaller out the window of the carriage as it took him away and towards the docks of Dublin, where he'd catch a ship to Liverpool and then head on back to London.

* * *

"Oh and her _hair_ , Anthony!" Absolom threw a hand up in the air only to pull it back and cover his face with a groan. His dearest and oldest friend sat across from him in his flat in Soho, London with a wide grin and swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

"You," He said, obnoxiously pleased and smug, "sound utterly _besotted_. How amazingly scandalous!" The wretch of a man laughed at him and let the rest of the wine in his glass fall down his throat.

"You think I don't know that?" Absolom sat into his usual chair with a despairing sigh deep from within his chest. "Even if she'd have me, my family would never approve."

A choking sound came from the lounge beside him and Absolom looked over at Anthony, who stared at him with open eyes and dropped jaw. "You– Absolom Fell! You can't _possibly_ be thinking of marrying her! She's… she's _common_ , you daft bastard! And Irish to boot."

Absolom set his glass down and leaned forward, holding his head in his hands, utterly miserable. "Oh, I know that, Anthony, I know that _very well_." He sighed morosely.

His friend sighed heavily and shifted closer to place a hand on his shoulder, heavy and comforting. "You miserable, idiotic bastard. Alright. Fine!"

"Alright?" Absolom looked up with baleful eyes at his bosom friend and frowned at the utterly serious and sober look on his face.

"We'll get you your _siren_ ," Anthony grinned like a snake, wide and to be entirely distrusted. Absolom, of course, knew better than to let the man pull him into his wild schemes. But, well… it was just so tempting.

Anthony stood with all the force of a horse rearing and clomped along Absolom's library to his desk. He pulled out a sheet of paper and procured a quill from a hidden compartment as well as some ink with a determined look in his eyes, "We've got a letter to write, Absolom! Come now, let's go woo your woman!"

* * *

It was only another month until Absolom was able to come up with an excu– a _reason_ to visit his properties in Ireland. It was, perhaps, also a help that most of his own work could just as easily travel along with him and was mainly writing and adjusting contracts for the Fell estates and on behalf of his family. As much as he loved his books and would have preferred to stay in his library restoring them—an only vaguely lucrative hobby if one found the right sorts of people to talk up restored, old books to—hiding away with legal codes and searching for loopholes and areas that perhaps weren't as airtight as they could be in the writing of others as well as his own words was a close second. Either way, it meant he was free to do as he liked, more or less.

It _also_ meant that he had a stipend of his own income outside of what he received to remain "on-call" as it were for the entirety of the Fell family and their business and legal dealings. His cousins—Gabriel and Michael, who headed the family in the place of their mother, the true matriarch, in the day to day—surely would have otherwise commented on his usage of family funds to visit his own private investments in Ireland so soon…

This time his trip was delayed, not by so long as an entire day, but Absolom arrived at the manor by the sea after dark had fallen and the lights in the parlor had been lit. The air had chilled considerably and he couldn't shake the shiver that ran down his spine. It felt a lot like anticipation, and he tried not to think too hard on it.

"Mr. Fell," the siren greeted, opening the door to the carriage with a soft, nervous-looking smile. He stepped out and onto the grass with a nod and, this time, allowed the driver to take his bags to the front door.

"Did you receive my letter?" Absolom asked in his best attempt at nonchalance and, in a surge of confidence brought on by tiredness, he offered Aurnia Crowley his arm. She looked at him in something akin to shock and hesitated for a few moments—in which Absolom was _sure_ his heart would break—only to come to a decision within herself and place her hand in the crook of his arm. Delicate and gentle and surprisingly warm, even through the layers he wore. Instantly he felt his blood warm and a flush climb to his cheeks, and looked away from her to the front door.

"I did, sir, yes." Ms. Crowley replied and looked down towards the ground, loose strands of her hair slipping from where she'd tied it at the nape of her neck. Absolom couldn't help but think it particularly fetching, just a little undone and wild no matter how she attempted to button up and hold herself back from her nature.

"And…" Absolom trailed off, gesturing with his free hand to search for words that seemed stuck to the tip of his tongue. "What– what did you think of it?"

Crowley's eyes widened and she snuck a glance up at Absolom's face, only to freeze for a moment and flush bright. Red climbed up her neck to her cheeks and over her ears until her face nearly matched the color of her hair and she pulled away from Absolom's arm to clasp her hands in front of her thighs and bow her head.

"I– I am very sorry, sir! I cannot read…" She murmured, voice tight with embarrassment and she kept her head down despite Absolom's wishes that she'd look at him again, blush or no.

"Oh, no, my dear, I am very sorry," Absolom began to apologize, color creeping up over his collar as well and he looked towards the manor and the driver who was returning, schooling his face even as her words caught up to him. "Wait, you cannot read?"

Aurnia Crowley shook her head and looked up to give the driver a shy smile as he passed by and shot her a concerned look. Absolom felt his visage turn cloudy at their casual concern and Crowley's smile to the no-name driver. Instead of saying anything further he continued quickly into the manor and left the door open after him, heading directly to his study, cursing Anthony all the while under his breath once he was far enough not to be overheard. Of _course,_ she'd never been taught to read! He couldn't be treating her like some noble-born lady he was _meant_ to court!

Suddenly exhausted and no longer bolstered by the excitement at seeing her again, Absolom collapsed into his armchair with a sigh and covered his face with both his hands. Barely ten minutes later and a light knock sounded at the door and a faint whiff of Darjeeling followed.

"Enter," Absolom called, rearranging himself on the chair facing away from the door. He wished he'd chosen to go just a bit further into the study behind his desk where he had the extra barrier and could have at least pretended to go through his papers to keep his eyes firmly affixed to anything but how lovely his housekeeper was.

"I'm very sorry…" Crowley apologized softly, pouring the first cup and setting out the milk and sugar and angling everything within easy reach for any refills he might decide to pour for himself later. Just as he always adjusted them. His traitor of a heart flipped in his chest that she noticed in the six days he'd been here prior and _remembered_. Absolom quickly squashed the feeling attempting to well up, she was a servant, that was her job. What she was _employed_ to do. He firmly ignored the part of him that said even servants he'd lived with as a boy and his current valet never quite did as such…

"No, my dear, it is alright. I ought to have known," He watched her openly until the moment her head began to tilt to look up at him; he quickly darted his gaze down to the teacup by his hand. But wait, why _should_ he have known? He sent word ahead via letter to the estate to let them– to let her know he would be coming for a stay and she'd been prepared for him both times, as much as arrival fluctuation allowed.

"Though, I must ask," Absolom poured a dash of milk into his tea and breathed in the scent of it happily, pleased at the weight of the tea sworling with the milk. Not too light or weak, just as he liked it. "If you do not read, then how do you know to expect my presence here? As far as I am aware notice is sent ahead as a letter…"

"Ah, yes, it is, sir." Crowley held the silver tray close to her chest, as if it were the breastplate of a knight, worn to protect her from a blow. "When they come I take them to Thomas, in town. He reads and writes out letters for most of us." Absolom's eyes flicked up to Crowley's face in mild alarm. Not that there was anything _untoward_ in his letter, of course, but it had certainly _not_ been meant for anyone's eyes but Crowley's!

"O– oh, is that so?" He swallowed heavily and set the cup down without ever taking a sip from it. "And did… did this Thomas read my words to you?"

"Yes." She replied simply, Absolom only just bit back a groan. "Thomas read to me the missive of when to expect you, but the second letter he did not… He refused to continue past the first line." Crowley's cheeks flushed a pretty red.

"Oh," Absolom replied lamely, feeling quite a bit like all the wind had been stolen from his sails, leaving him still on a calm sea and drifting.

"Was– was it important?" Crowley asked after a brief moment of silence between them. "I'm very sorry, sir, I didn't mean to disregard your letter I promise!" She bowed her head.

"No, no, it's alright my dear it was… nothing more than a flight of fancy. Nothing– nothing important." Absolom was quick to placate, frowning heavily at the way she wouldn't look at him and seemed skittish like this. He stood and, instead of stepping forward to take her hands like every part of him wished to do, he clasped them behind his back at the small of it. That pang from before sounded again like a cathedral bell in his chest about how his siren spoke so easily to the driver who delivered him the last leg of his journey here and how she so freely seemed to exist in the company of this _Thomas_ fellow. And yet she could barely stand to look at his face... 

Crowley looked up at him and Absolom's breath abated in his chest at the sharp cleverness of her eyes that she'd hidden so well from him, even during the six days of his last visit. It felt like she was seeing through him, into him, and baring his soul for her perusal. Like she knew every one of his thoughts, especially everything he'd ever thought about her.

"If I might be so bold, _sir_ …" Crowley murmured and stepped forward, just out of touching distance. If Absolom reached out and leaned in, he could brush his fingertips against the sleeve of her dress, he thought.

"Y– yes, of course, anything you like–" He quickly shut his mouth to keep anything else untoward pouring out from his lips. He swallowed again and hated how dry and scratched his throat felt suddenly. Parched really, he ought to have sent for some tea before sitting. Yes, tea would be a good idea, and then, perhaps, Crowley wouldn't offer such temptations so close…

"Then, sir, I might say—if I were being bold— that it did not seem so." Crowley leaned against the back of the armchair opposite Absolom, her hands delicately curling around the ornate wooden carving atop the cushion. "The way Thomas blushed when he read, and your first words, I do not think they were unimportant."

And then she was pressed against the back of the armchair. Absolom had never before in his life been jealous of furniture, but perhaps now was a good time to start. He couldn't seem to keep his gaze off her hands where the flexed and the way her fingertips traced idly in the whorls and ridges of the carving on the chair. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he feared with every rational thought he had left to his name that she might hear it and _know_.

Crowley spoke again and Absolom's heart caught in his chest, freezing in his throat as she recited his letter, word for word. "My dearest Aurnia Crowley. Per my previous letter, which I hope has reached you first, I will be visiting the manor in a month's time for the course of the summer. My latest visit has bespelled me and I wish to return to the place which my heart seems to have remained amongst the heather…" She trailed off and Absolom looked her in the eyes, unsure how he was alive, considering his heart and lungs had ceased to function.

When his gaze met hers, she finished, "And to which I dearly desire to return." She paused once more and wet her lips with the quick dart of a pink tongue-tip. "That doesnae seem so unimportant, to me." Her gentle brogue roughened some and Absolom stared, wordless.

"I– no. Perhaps not, then." He whispered tightly after a short while, feeling as if her silence would pull the truth from him no matter the strength of will he might have elsewhere.

"Then, will you read it to me?" She asked softly, not bothering to hide her accent anymore, having gone without recrimination for it.

"You," Absolom startled at the sudden question that likely shouldn't have felt so sudden, stepping back in his surprise, "Read it to you?!"

Crowley tilted her head and blinked slowly before reaching into a hidden pocket in her dress to pull out his letter. She proffered it to him and simply… waited. With that soft, expectant look on her face. The sun was rapidly setting, and as kind as the light of the dying sun was in the room to her visage, Absolom scarcely thought he could stand even a moment more of this, let alone reading what Anthony had helped him compose to her. It was so… _forthright_ , he'd be mightily embarrassed by it in the cold light of day but utterly helpless to stop it's postage as Anthony had stolen it before he could sober.

"Yes." She said simply and nodded, stretching out her hand just a little more.

Steeling himself, Absolom reached for the letter and froze when his fingers enveloped hers. Oh good Lord but her hands were dainty and thin. They weren't soft like he'd heard his peers wax poetic about a woman's hand feeling, but he'd also never heard any of his friends speak of their all-consuming love of their house servants. All at once, it felt perverse and titillating and like everything that should repulse him for the better of his comfort and life. But he had never felt so much like his soul had taken flight.

Absolom, to his shame, did not read her the letter, not as it had been written. Instead, he spoke of the grounds and things that were common for a man to inquire about from his house servant and groundskeeper. And, when it was over and he changed his sign-off from _Yours Most Ardently_ to _Kindest Regards_ , the siren watched him with bright eyes that pierced his soul and made him feel open and bare before her.

"Is that so…" Crowley murmured, the fire crackled across from them and Absolom's eyes flicked to her hands as they kneaded slowly— _so slowly_ —at the back of chair and he couldn't help but long to be underneath her hands, surely they were firm and he would be able to feel the stretch and press of her fingers on his arms if she held him, she would be able to force the weariness from his shoulders and he could, in turn— _no_ , those thoughts were improper. Her gaze on him pierced him to his core, and he worried she might be able to see all his thoughts written on his heart or stitched upon his sleeves or, worse, shining on his face.

"Is wh– is what so, my dear?" Absolom coughed into his fist to cover the catch of words in his throat and the flush of his cheeks.

"Do you regret it?" The siren in his study asked, her voice low as a distant roll of thunder and cut him to the quick as a strike of lighting. "The letter, I mean, whatever you wrote in it."

"I… no," Absolom replied, more resolute than he had thought he could be, in matters of the heart, as bumbling as they made him feel. Like a new colt in spring, unsure of whatever footing he might try and stumbling, ungainly in ways that might be cute if not for how pitiful it was, "I do not."

"But you do not wish to read it to me." It wasn't a question. Absolom had learned she rarely asked them, and less so did she ask them if she did not already know the answer.

Absolom did not reply for some time, measuring his responses and words, "No. I do not. Not yet…"

"Not yet?" She asked, and her eyes fluttered. Absolom thought he might die for how pleasant it made her, and thought he might trip and fall directly to the gates of Hell for the pride that welled up in him for managing to surprise her.

"No. Not until you can read it for yourself. And then, if you still wish it, I will read it to you." Absolom held out the letter for her to take once more, "But until then, what if I teach you to read?"


	2. Where Many Letter Are Written And Not Enough Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epistolary! Slightly shorter than the first but in letters only! ~~Crowley~~ Aurnia is learning her letters (ha) through these so misspellings in hers are on purpose.

_Dear Ms Aurnia Crowley,_

_I will keep this letter short, so that you may learn your letters easily. I hope that what study I have given you comes naturally and without great effort on your part. Though that is not to say you ought to be discouraged if it is, simply that I wish you well in your efforts._

_This letter is already longer than I had thought._

_~~Yours Kindly,~~ My Dear Regards,_

_Absolom Z. Fell_

* * *

_Dear Lord Fell,_

_I copied your greting, and I pray it is fine. Your letter sounds like you. I do not know what to right. I ~~apol~~_ _am sory._

_Your Servant,_

_Aurnia J. Crowley_

* * *

_Dear Ms Crowley,_

_Please, you may address your letters to me familiarly, if you like. I have written longer words that may be more difficult to read, but I am confident in you, my dear. I hope that I am not too forward in calling you such. There is something different in saying it aloud to writing it, though I have never been able to tell just what it is._

_You have nothing to apologize for, of course. You are learning at a truly amazing rate, and you are a credit to yourself for it, I think. If only all pupils might take after their teachers so quickly, there might be more willing to teach._

_What does the 'J' stand for, may I ask?_

_My Dearest Regards,_

_Absolom Z. Fell_

* * *

_Dear Mr Fell,_

_Will this do? The J is just a sily J realy._

_My rist does not thank you for the long words I had to write from your leter. But they are easier to read now. But I think you forgot the smal words to teach me. I know some look wrong but I do not know wich are until you give it back with red ink._

_It is not forward I think to call me my name. Or dear. Most leters start that way right?_

_Your Servant,_

_Aurnia J. Crowley_

* * *

_My Dear Aurnia,_

_I must give you my apologies once more. I forget that you have not had a more formal education and simply ended early at times, your clever wit confounds me, I suppose. I think, at times, you are far more clever than most I have ever met who were taught the same things as I and who pride themselves on their repetitive, memorized repartee._

_If I am to call you Aurnia, please call me Absolom. I detest the thought of not allowing you the same intimacies you offer me. I cannot think of a time in which I would wish for you to be more formal with me, instead of less._

_My Dearest Regards,_

_Absolom Z. Fell_

_P.S. You do not have to keep your letters secret, my dear. I would happily help you write them if you wish, if the red ink for corrections seems too much._

_~~P.P.S. I would hope, by now, you would be comfortable with a different address, as I do not wish to think of you as a servant only. I find myself enthralled by you, and so your thrall I am.~~ _

* * *

_Dear Absolom,_

_I am sorry for how long it took me to write this. I am looking up words as I need to so that I can write them better, and I have written this over again more times than I want to count. Writing feels too personal I think to share when I am doing so. ~~It is hard to~~_

_~~I think I like your praise Absolom and your well wishes. To be admired is something of a~~ _

_I am sorry for how messy this letter is. I do not know what to say again. I am rarely at a loss for words except around you Absolom._

_~~Your Servant~~ My Dearest Regards,_

_Aurnia J. Crowley_

* * *

_My Dear Ms Crowley,_

_I must confess that I myself have had a few false starts while writing to you in return. There are many letters I wish to write to you in which I find myself speaking too freely and for too long. Perhaps choosing to teach you your letters this way was a poor decision on my part, but I cannot regret it. Not truly._

_I must say to you, I am pleased to see your progress, your quick wit and your memorization abilities are quite honestly shocking, even if I were to find them amongst my peers at university I think. Though, perhaps, then I would succumb to jealousy in the stead of awe. So it is for the best, I think, that I have never met someone like you before, Ms Crowley._

_I find you infinitely changeable, and though it would usually be a cause for concern from me, I cannot help but think it charming on you. I feel that even this much is too familiar, and though there is more I wish to say, I will stop myself here and —if you tell me that it is, in fact, too close— then I will refrain in the future._

_My Most Sincere Regards,_

_Absolom Z. Fell_

* * *

_Dear Absolom,_

_I also have a confession to make. I do not mind your familiarity. And I do my best not to think on the upcoming days when you must leave again because I will miss it._

_If I am allowed to call you Absolom as you have not scolded me for doing so then perhaps you may also call me simply Crowley. I prefer it to my given name otherwise I would allow you to call me Aurnia._

_My Dearest Regards,_

_Aurnia J. Crowley_

* * *

_My Dearest Crowley,_

_Then familiar I will be. You have pressed me, earlier this week, about a few topics on which I did not wish to speak, for I fear stumbling over myself and my tongue turning leaden in your presence, not in small part due to your listening to what I say. I find myself entranced, nay enthralled by you, Aurnia._

_I think this may be too forward, but I also find myself becoming bolder the longer I look into your eyes, and I am near intoxicated on your gaze these days, my dear. ~~I have a question for you in person, one I am terrified of the answer to but I am far too much of a coward not to ask it for I fear wasting away without the knowledge of your thoughts, of your feelings.~~_

~~_Please, of course, do not hesitate to rebuke me if this is in any way unreciprocated_ ~~

~~~~Yours Ardently,

_Absolom Z. Fell_

* * *

_My Dearest Absolom,_

_I had trouble reading what you crossed out, and I am sorry for my curiosity, but it is a part of me I have never been able to excise from the whole of me no matter the reprimand nor the scolding I have received for it._

_I do not think you too bold, my lord, nor too forward. I find myself in much the same circumstance as you, and every utterance of my name from your lips becomes precious to me. Perhaps, then, if you think yourself too forward, you would find me too much as well?_

_Do you dislike it from me? I know that amongst the women in your class and at your balls and in your parlors there are many who would find me wild and uncouth, but I must tell you I prefer myself this way. If I were not free to do as I please, I may wither like the wildflower under relentless, storming rain._

_But, if I may be bold once more, this time in my written hand rather than by the utterance of my mouth, I think you may like me this way too…_

_Yours Ardently,_

_Aurnia J. Crowley_

* * *

_My Dearest Siren,_

_I could not disapprove of anything you were. I have come to terms, quite easily in fact, with who you are. You are a breath of fresh air when I had not known it was stagnant in the first place, you are the first spring shower that refreshes the land and churns the earth until it smells sweet with growth, you are the siren who calls me and I am caught, quite happily indeed._

_You have asked me, my dear, why I call you siren, and I think you may find it to be ridiculous, but to me you must be. I came to my manor here for the first time in years, expecting nothing more from it than it would be aired out and clean for my arrival. But to my surprise, there was the most singular woman in my kitchen, she danced light on her feet to a tune only she might hear and she sang in a language wholly foreign to me, words tripped off her tongue and I knew instantly I was caught by her spell. I would never again sleep without hearing her voice in my dreams or see the red of her hair as I chased uselessly._

_And then you spoke to me, and rather than break the spell, it only drew me in further for the flush upon your cheeks was like that of exertion and it was becoming on you in ways I cannot articulate. I think perhaps, no, I know, this is when I lost my heart._

_It was only ever a game, this pursuit, to make you realize you held it in your hand this whole while._

_Perhaps you have already read my first letter, which was indescribably bold, shamefully so. My only excuse is that I was lost to the love of you and my heart was sick since I had left it with you in Ireland even as I traveled back to London. I had attempted to dull the ache of it missing from my chest with drink and the company of my friend Anthony, though he plied me with drink until I could be sat down at my writing desk and wrote out everything and anything that came to mind when I spoke of you without any thought spared to propriety._

_For that, I will apologize, if it was frightening coming from your employer, but every word of it was the truth and I only regret it for any worry it may have caused you rather than any insincerity on my part._

_If I may, I remember clearly one portion of the letter I sent to you, and if it is not unwelcome I wish to write it to you again:_

> _As the moon rises in the gloaming I think of you. As the sun rises again in the morning I think of you again. In all my thoughts there is some piece of you there, haunting me as if I were a poor creature caught in the throes of lovelorn agony. It is not agony, however, when I think of you. It could never be something so terrible when my fondness, my love for you, is so sweet. I wish to hold you as a man holds a woman and to take you dancing so that I may show the world the favor I have been given._
> 
> _A siren, I hope and pray, might choose me, for though I have nothing to offer such an enchanting creature but my wealth and the dryness of my humor, I would give anything in the world to be loved in turn._

_This I remember writing with all the truth in my heart, and it has not changed since then._

_If you wish to never speak to me again, if this is too bold or too frightening, then please do not hesitate to let me know. If you do not wish to write a return letter I will understand and take it as your answer._

_If you wish to leave my household after reading this I will also understand, and you will be given as much as I may, so that you are not inconvenienced by my affections._

_Yours, however you would wish it,_

_Absolom Z. Fell_


End file.
